Lost
by closetbound
Summary: Harry finally grievs his lost lover, and Hermione attempts to be there for him. complete


Title: Lost  
Author/Artist: closetbound  
Rating: PG  
Warnings: cd, m/m  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. Please don't sue me.  
Summery: Harry grieves his lost lover. Hermione tries to be there for him.

Hermione shivered and gathered her cloak more closely around her as she stepped through the door onto the roof of the astronomy tower. It seemed warmer nights weren't coming any time soon. Walking slowly to the stone banister and holding back a weary sigh, she let her gaze wander to the twinkling clear sky above her before she spoke.

"He wouldn't want you to do this."

At the soft half chuckle half sob she let her eyes fall to the dark haired man gazing out over the forbidden forest. She couldn't help noticing the lack of life in Harry's eyes. During the day, she could pretend, but when she saw him like this-

"No. Draco would berate me for being sentimental, make some sarcastic remark that I'll never be quick witted enough to come up with."

He had a small smile on his face, and his eyes were staring into some far off place or perhaps just some other time.

"That he would." Hermione paused, glancing at Harry out of the corner of her eye before continuing. "You really loved him, didn't you?"

Harry's eyes seemed to come into focus for a moment before going out again.

"I haven't stopped yet. I think I still expect him to show up. We met here every night. He liked it up here. He said it let him breath."

"I know." And she did. This was part of the script. Every night she came, and every night he told her. Maybe it would be better for him if she didn't come. She knew she would be back tomorrow.

"But he's not coming, is he? He would call me a fool, you know. He would be more creative about it, but he would. He would berate me for standing out in the cold waiting for a---but mostly he would be angry with me for falling in love with him. He warned me not to, you know."

"Yes." Hermione stepped closer and slid to the stone floor, following the blocking set two weeks ago for this nightly performance. No, that wasn't fair.

Harry leaned against the banister and tilted his head back to study the stars. Maybe they held answers that they hadn't on previous nights. She certainly didn't. Harry's eyes closed. Apparently not.

"Maybe he was right."

Hermione's eyes shot to Harry's. This was new. She thought she saw a flash of something there. She tried not to hope. Hope only made it worse.

"Why do you say that?"

Harry's sigh sounded weary. He looked at her, really looked at her for a moment. She couldn't help noticing how old he looked. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was only 17. He turned to face the forest before he spoke.

"I lost a lot of people in the war, Hermione, but until that last night I'd been luckier than most. I'd felt guilt for being too late or too weak, and I'd felt pain from the loss of someone I knew and cared about. Before that night, though, I'd never lost someone I loved.  
He's everywhere, Hermione. I see him in the Great Hall at meals, out of the corner of my eye in potions, walking through the corridors. I hear his laugh when I'm sitting in the library or that goddamn annoying drawl that I would give anything to hear for real. And gods, the nights-the nights are the worst. Every time I lie down I feel his hands...his mouth. Gods, Hermione-"

She stood and wrapped her arms around him from behind as the sob escaped him.

"At least you have the memories."

Harry pulled away from her abruptly and began to pace.

"The memories are torture. I'm not sure how much more I can take, Hermione."

She placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"Maybe you should go to the celebrations."

Harry turned toward her, and she saw fire in his eyes. She had forgotten what that looked like.

"I have absolutely no desire to celebrate with those bloody hypocrites. I know what they thought of him, what they still think of him. He gave more than any of them to this war, and they laughed when they heard. They fucking laughed!"

Harry was shaking with rage, and Hermione wrapped her arms around him, not knowing what else to do.

"Not all of them, Harry."

She felt some of the tension go out of him and almost didn't hear his next barely whispered words.

"I know. It's just that everyone's celebrating down there, Hermione, and I want to be part of it. I really do, but the person I planned to share this with isn't here. We used to talk about it. Did I ever tell you that?"

"No."

"We did. We used to talk about how it would be safe to be in the open. We were going to walk in together, eat together. He said he was going to keep his arm around me all night and kiss me every time he saw a shocked face. We were going to make out on the couch in the common room, and he was going to stay the whole night in my bed. Did you know we never got to fall asleep in each other's arms? It was too dangerous. He wanted to make a production of it all. He even had our wardrobes all planned out. You know how he is...was.

And Harry broke.

Hermione sank to the ground with him as sobs shook his too thin body. She rocked him as he grieved, rubbing his back and whispering useless reassurances. Gods, she hated being useless. She held him for nearly an hour before his breathing evened and he drifted off to sleep. Smiling sadly and brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, she carefully rolled him onto the stone floor. Feeling hope for the first time in two weeks, she reached into her robes for her wand.

A room full of faces met Hermione when she levitated a sleeping Harry into the common room. She caught Ron's eye and smiled as he glared their house-mates down before following her up the stairs to the 7th year boy's dormitory. Ron spoke quietly as they pulled a blanket over their sleeping friend.

"Well?"

"He cried tonight."


End file.
